


When she wakes up

by killingoksana



Category: Sherlock (TV)
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-04-30
Updated: 2020-04-30
Packaged: 2021-03-01 18:01:40
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 772
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23931223
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/killingoksana/pseuds/killingoksana
Summary: The morning after Karachi revisited.
Relationships: Irene Adler/Sherlock Holmes
Comments: 4
Kudos: 70





	When she wakes up

When she wakes up, the first thing she notices is that her hand is in his hand. She can barely open her eyes, she’s tired to death, but she forces herself to do so. She remembers falling asleep alone and now she is in this small bed with him by her side. They barely fit in it, but they are both lying on their sides, facing each other. He’s fast asleep, breathing soundly, and has his lips slightly parted.

And just right there, just like that, she takes her time. She wants to observe. She feels the need to do so. She deduces he is tired, but not just because of the travel and the intensity and pressure they were exposed to last night; the creases in his forehead, the furrow in his brow, tell her that something’s taking place in his mind, and it’s somehow tormenting him. She wants to know what it is about, if it’s related to her. She likes the idea of being the cause of what she thinks it is desolation in his mind. He has a scar over his cheekbone, and she wants to touch it so badly, because she knows it’ll cause him pain.

Their faces are so close she can see every small detail. Thick eyelashes lay over dark circles that tell her he hasn’t had much sleep lately. His lips are cut and have dry blood on them, so he’s probably been exposed to the sun and arid weather for a considerable amount of time. She imagines how long he has been there, waiting for the exact moment to _save her_. This thought makes her feel angry. She wants to kiss him hard, to bite those thick lips until she draws blood from them. To feel his incipient beard against her own skin. To _make him beg_ for release.

She thinks she didn’t need this: being saved, _feeling like this_. She wants to hate him. She doesn’t need a saviour; she had already accepted her own death. And now she feels she owes him. She closes her eyes and takes a deep breath. Her hand is still in his and she doesn’t understand why. He had despised her that night, back in London. He had shown her to his brother as a weak being. He had positioned himself above her, above the entire humanity. He’d been blatant.

Sentiment is a chemical defect found on the losing side and yet there they are: last night, she _had chosen_ _him_ to be the addressee of her last message, and she had cried when she heard her own moan in his mobile; and now he is lying on the same bed as her, holding her hand, in a small town near the border of Pakistan with India, after travelling miles just to _save_ _her_. It doesn’t make sense to her. The mere thought of it makes her feel incredibly anguished. She thinks Sherlock Holmes doesn’t feel guilty. The famous detective doesn’t regret anything at all. She doesn’t understand this and wants, _needs_ to know. For the first time in her life, she feels lost.

She tightens the grip in his hand and squeezes with strength. Her jaw is clenched, her eyes full of tears. She has to be dead. That is what he wanted. _Irene Adler has to be dead_.

Suddenly, his eyes flutter open. “What...” he breathes out, and slightly shifts his body as he notices their proximity. For a moment, he looks at her with something in his eyes that she identifies as concern. Maybe, she can’t help but wonder, he’s worried.

She doesn’t release his hand. She doesn’t know if it was her who held his hand unconsciously in her sleep, or if it didn’t happen that way. She doesn’t care anyway. She wants him to get his hand free first. He’s stubborn, but she knows better. She presses harder and sees his expression tensing. His gaze is intense, and she remains there. Now he, slowly, takes her hand to his mouth, and kisses her knuckles fondly as his eyes go shut. His thumb caresses her skin and he locks gazes again with her. And then she realises, he’s willing to keep on playing the game. _Their game_.

She leaps on him and closes his mouth with hers. She kisses him and he kisses her back. His arms surround her body as he holds her hard against him. She bites, she scratches, she kisses again and she’s making him an utter mess.

Because that’s what she wants: she wants to break him, as hard and as conscientiously as he has already broken her.

**Author's Note:**

> This work was originally posted a few years ago in my Tumblr blog ([@adler-esque](https://adler-esque.tumblr.com/)). I was re-reading some of my past works and decided this one was worth of being posted on here. Hope you enjoy. 💕


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